


Insane Family Quest

by Silverbulletsdeath



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Control, F/F, Killing, NO DEATH, Slavery, all my characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2517200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverbulletsdeath/pseuds/Silverbulletsdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The troll was an idiot.  She was trying to get us looped I was sure of it.  She won't stop killing me, trying to turn me into a zombie, and generally making my life as horrible as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking the Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, another thing I start and likely won't end!

It was oddly enticing.  Like the danger just wanted to force us together.  Before I had been happy to skip around and explore the Alliance controlled areas after leaving Stormwind for Ironforge in Dun Morogh.  I'd gotten steadily stronger and stronger since then until I found myself casually strolling the Arathi Highlands road, unafraid of the monsters of Horde members that wandered around.  But here, it was weird being so close to death.  I mean, nowadays, true death was a joke, but what the undead, the forsaken, were forced to suffer in each limb drew my curiosity.  Yeah, the Wetlands were bad enough with the ghosts in the water, and there had always been those screams that lasted and hung around in the air long past time for them to leave, but that seemed child's play to the Horde's undead.  They just sorted lasted here even with rotting limbs, acting like any other tribe of people, building themselves up, making cities and names for themselves as heroes long past time since they should have laid unmoving in the ground.  They were one of the first signs that something had gone wrong. 

I tapped my leg, time passed slow second by slow second as I sat on my porch, watching  them as they stared, in the wrong direction to see me, instead facing inward, as if they wouldn't attack until the their prey was right in front of them.  Maybe that was all these undead could do. The dead I had come across had always been short sighted or incredibly stupid.  Stuck in a past moment or their minds so decayed that they were nothing but killing monsters.  These undead, they were decayed, but despite that they wore heavy armor and stood at attention, and stood, and stood.  I didn't know if it was an undead thing, or a change thing.  After all, didn't even some humans now have that unwavering ability to just stand in one spot for days on end without something to drink or eat?  Azeroth was changing, gone into a romantic history I never saw.  Instead I lived while we fell apart, crushed by leadership under broken minds that repeated commands and actions over and over again until they finally stuck. 

A small breeze caught the wind and my black hair blew in the wind, a black strand licking at my face.  I glanced to the side.  Truthfully, I was too close to the Horde to be completely at ease.  Better really to turn right toward the milling Burning Exiles that scorched the grass under them.  I snapped off a flower and twisted it between my fingers, my shoulders hunched over as I stared back at the wall.  I looked it over.  While some of the stone had started to fall off as the old thing fell into disrepair.  The Horde apparently not caring if the Alliance could sneak in.  Still, at the moment, it was at the point that it was too decayed to try and scale, but to tall to climb.  The Mountains to the right were too steep to climb, and I didn't feel like swimming.

That left going through the only entrance where the road still opened point to point.  I could try to sneak through, but I had always heard that the undead were an unnatural lot.  Would they see through my cloak?  My eyes drifted toward where the Horde had set up one of their camps.  First and foremost were the flags.  The undead might be part of the Horde, but their first and foremost leader would always be the Banshee Queen who adorned their purple flags with her pale face.  But now I saw something that made my entire body shiver.  It was bad enough when the gnomes made machines that spit out unnatural green junk, but this machine actually appeared to be pumping green gas into the air.  The toxic green smoke seemed to disappear but that only meant that it was harder and slower to see its effects.   

I shook my head.  Eyes on the prize.  That meant I needed to breathe and concentrate.  What could be the worst that happened if the undead guards saw me?  I had to run?  I ended up dead?  I ended up with my body covered in their unnatural goop and ended up undead?  Yeah, okay, that last one turned my stomach, but I wanted to go beyond.  I wanted to see what the undead had done to the land they had rested started to make their own.  Their unnatural, putrid experiments.  What were they like?  What did they do?  Was the land poisoned forever?

My skin turned transparent and then disappeared, even to my own eyes. I and everything I wore disappeared.  Getting the first part had been easy enough.  As a child I loved to disappear on my matron.  I had always been a natural rogue, stealing from the worst of the city, and well, finally slitting a pimps throat.  For that, but I had ended up in Northshire Valley.  Murder might be common, but it hardly ever stuck.  Of course, getting the clothes on my back and then my weapons to disappear with me had been difficult.

Crouching low, I snuck, foot over foot, heading down the middle of the road.  The more careful I was, the less likely I was to be seen and killed.  It wasn't just the cloak could slip when I moved to fast, but I could leave footprints, kick up dirt, make noise and those highly trained guards would probably see me.  My hands shook, I looked up, Thordan's Wall wasn't very impressive, never could have been to me since I grew up near Stormwind and the intricacy and beauty of stonework where I taken my first bronze from an abandoned stall. 

And then I was through.  I let a small smile peel across my lips.  Perfect.  Still, I wasn't out of the woods yet, and I wouldn't abandon my stealth.  After all, I was in Horde territory.  Better to get off the road fast before patrols  spotted me.  I step, careful, and even flinched as the tall grass brushed and blew around my legs.  Worse, my feet left indents against the fragile stalks.  I could only hope in time to become so stealthy as to not disturb a single stalk of grass as I wandered across a field.  Now, no matter how careful I was, it was never enough to get rid of all of the signs of my passing. 

Still, I took a quick look around me.  Nothing weird yet, or well, weirder than Azeroth usually was at any rate.  The grass was still green, and the flowers were a nice purple.  The first creature I came across was interesting, but something I had seen in books of beasts before.  It was like a huge owl.  But with legs that walked in a waddle across the land, wings more like arms with claws at the end, growing horns of a steed, and a necklace of what looked like bones.  An Owlbeast, if I was remembering right.  I walked past it easily.  This beast was mundane.  Boring.  The undead weren't meant to be mundane, they were supposed to be putrid and evil.  So twisted by death that it followed them and seeped into the very land they took as their own.  They couldn't help it.  It was who they were. 

As I walked, my eyes scanned a nice looking mageroyal, perfect for the plucking.  I needed more ink, but I shook my head and kept on walking.  It wasn't time to break stealth to restock my stores.  A horse whinnied and I sighed.  Really, this was not what I was looking for. The Hillsbrad Foothills were supposed to be interesting and fun.  With horrid abominations and a twisted landscape that would make even the hardest soldier puke their guts out. 

Still, I kept on, maybe I needed to get closer to the heart of the corruption.  I kept out of the way of a crumbling castle.  I would avoid death if at all possible.  Atually, I decided then and there that after my death I would quickly see myself home to Stormwind.  Just as I was giving up hope, I saw it.  A field in the distance, what could have once been a farm, now overrun with a spill of green slime pooled in pounds on the ground.  The building next to the fields was tall, and around the top hung a thin, eerie mist.  I smiled and ventured forward, not fast, and with a mind to back out at the first sign of anything above my ability to deal with, but I wasn't overly worried.  My first sighting of what I had been aching to see since my first kill that ended a life forever.  Blessed, a prodigy, but this is what I needed.

As I got closer, I saw more and more, and my heart beat hard in my chest.  The green slime went up the hills, there were more of those infernal machines that pumped that green slime gas into the air.  The trees themselves were odd.  Some overly green, others almost dying, and a tree turning the leaves yellow and orange before autumn.  Water splashed against my ankles as I went into the river.  My attention drawn from my stealth to the world around me.  As I headed up the hill to my destination, I caught sight of an Undead flag.  I made sure to give it a wide berth and I saw something a little different. 

I wasn't sure what to make of these creatures.  Technically they were part of the Alliance, but they just seemed so on edge, like they could lose control at any second and rip the throats out of everyone around them.  Creatures of the Horde one would think, but instead aligned with us.  Still, they were my people and were currently going toe to toe against spiders and what looked like could have been blood elves, except their skin wasn't golden, it was white with dark hair that glowed blue and had dead eyes. 

My breath caught.  I hadn't realized there were undead so hauntingly beautiful, I thought that Sylvanas held that honor.  They looked determined and deadly.  I decided to be smart and put a wide berth between us. 

Then I was through and from the corner of my eyes I saw the beginnings of a town.  I moved closer to the road, eyes scanning for any incoming patrols.  The city was grey, with mist by the buildings.  Searchlights traveled through the mist.  I moved away, heading further along this side of the road.  Every molecule of my being wanted to go there.  I wanted to see the grotesque things, hidden inside its well maintained walls. Still, lightning struck in wide blue flashes inside, hitting something probably, dragging it there somewhere. 

No, at least for now, I wouldn't take that risk.  I'd at least explore this side of the road first.  Then I smiled, well, giant spiders meant interesting caught and drained things, often bones.  Maybe the undead had mutated them into creatures of true corruption and death.  Though, they were a standard orange/brown hairy things.  So, maybe no mutation, but perhaps they had caught an undead in their web.  The things were everywhere.  The undead must have abandoned this area as being too overrun to deal with.  Trees were covered with webs.  No effort seemed to be put into keeping this place under control. 

And then I saw them.  An unseemlying loud breath of air slipped out between my lips.  Now these beasts were what I had been talking about.  The creepers had infested the bears.  The skin and fur of the creatures had been corroded to the point where at parts the flesh showed through.  Worse still is where the meat had been eaten away until the bones of the beast showed, the area raging with infection and covered in grime from the outside and inside of the animal.  Best was on top, where the eggs had been laid.  There the spiders had laid the eggs, incubating on and inside the unfortunate bears. 

I took a careful step toward the first creature, my muscles bunching as I took a careful step toward the first poor creature.  The bears lips pulled back and a low, wet growl rattled its teeth.  I froze, on one hand, this beast was weak, near death because of the spiders nest, on the other hand creatures in this state could be surprisingly aggressive and effective.  Not that I was afraid it would kill me, more that the last fight this beast showed would surprise me enough that I would drop my stealth that cloaked me from the sight of the Horde.

So I kept going.  Maybe I would find a secluded enough area that I would feel safe to take my knife and dissect one of these creatures.  Plus, if I got to a place where the spiders had spun a web around their own intended victims, perhaps I would be lucky enough to find a captured Undead.  I could learn a lot if I had the luxury of a Undead held captive by a web and my new, in depth knowledge in dissection.

Unfortunately, as I stepped careful step by careful step, I realized I was coming near the end of Hillsbrad Farm, and I hadn't planned on entering the Silverpine Forest.  Though I had made it this far, maybe it would be worth heading further in.  After all, none of these spiders had caught their food anywhere near me.  They just lazily scuttled around the bears, not even touching their webs.    

There was a moment, just something that bothered me.  A Horde bird flying too low, something, that warned me that I should start running.  But the feeling was fleeting, and I started to turn to creep down toward where the earth dipped and where I hoped to find where the spiders nested and perhaps some of their food.  I wasn't too concerned about the spiders.  For the most part they had ignored me, and I'd already come against similar creatures.  I was sure that I could easily dispatch them if they somehow got wind of me.

Then pain ran up my spine, sharp, and hard, and instantly deadly.  My spirit was already fleeing from my body before whatever had hit me had finished coursing through my body.  I woke up to a blue world.  That was the best way I could explain, facing a huge, blue, floating, humanoid woman whose voice whispered inside my head as I unsteadily settled into the middle of the small ring of gravestones.  I took a look around, turning my back to the Spirit Healer, her voice whispering harshly in the space I stood. 

It always took me a moment to adjust to the new sensation of this world.  It was muted and listless, made worse by being a spirit, those I still had the weight and reactions of a physical body.  I never tried to figure how that would work.  As I turned around, I found myself in the familiar situation of having no idea where I was in relationship to my spirit and where my body was located.  Part of the problem was the sense of unbalance I felt after having been killed. 

As I slowly scanned my immediate location, I noticed a searchlight that scanned the area, just visible to the eyes.  I moved forward.  Sludge Farm was within my reach, and since I was already dead, well, they wouldn't even be able to see me, of course, I wouldn't be able to see them either because of that I probably wouldn't see anything truly interesting.  I would have to be much closer to my body and before I even saw any shadows of the living.  So I turned my back again, knowing I was near the farm with search lights and putrid smoke didn't actually help me figure out where my body was besides now having the knowledge that I was on the wrong side of the road. 

So I closed my eyes, easiest way to find my body was to look the right way at the world.  For most, looking at the world in this "new" way was easy.  They walked through life seeing maps and health and all manner of extra things that belonged to the new way the world kept a tally of you and everything around you.  I didn't see it that easily.  It was a chore for me to force myself to see the world that way.  Still, unless I wanted to be next to Sludge Farm in a severely weakened state, I would have to use my sigh to find my body.

Foot over foot I forced myself across the road knowing the general direction, but then I paused actually paying attention to the directions.  There was something wrong.  I knew where I had died, it had definitely been across the road somewhere, but the red arrow at the corner of my vision was leading me elsewhere.  It pointed back toward a mountain, and that couldn't be right.  At first I considered trying to go to where my body had fallen, but I had no true sense of where I needed to go now.  Just a vague orientation mostly destroyed when I had become a shade.  A ghost. 

So best to trust the guide.

My feet hit the road and I turned, eyes scanning toward where my body probably was, and then back to the path.  I took a one step, then two, toward the wall, toward the Silverpine Forest.  I passed the gate and my eyes trailed to where I could still see the bluish shade of the Sylvanas's banner.  I found it interesting that I couldn't even see any hint, not a mist, or glowing eyes from where the Undead stood.  I thought they would linger, that something of them would be in-between this world and the next. 

My feet carried me past the encampment, closer and closer to the Silverpine Forest and still the arrow was pointing me onward, no casket in sight of my map.  Lights from the side of road cast a weird glow that surrounded its post, and the blue, solid shades of mushrooms grew.  Soon I was beyond the second gate. 

No big deal really, I was an incorporeal shade after all, nothing could actually harm me while I was a shade.  I was completely beyond the grasp of anything sentient on the surface of Azeroth.  As I kept my feet firmly on the path, some part of me couldn't help but be paranoid that I would lose my way completely if I stepped off the road.  I couldn't help but notice that for a place so close to where the undead and worgen were born and bred, it looked perfectly ordinary.  Perhaps it had a more eerie setting when I could see the creatures in contact with the dead and how the mist and air fell, but in the shades all I saw was a forest and a castle slowly appearing far away as I crested my first hill. 

As I turned the corner, I saw those machines again, the air must be putrid.  One nice thing about being a shade with no sense of smell or lungs to breathe the poison in.  And it looked as if they had been busy cutting down the forest near their camp.  The Horde was famous for this behavior.  Not that humans didn't cut down trees, but we did it with a certain amount of respect and understanding of the land that needed to survive around it and supported us in return. 

And still I followed the path, further and further into the forest. A phantom pain gripped my lungs as the fear of being so close to the enemy made me more and more nervous.  How deep was I going?  How strange was this adventure?  Going beyond where I should, scouting into enemy land further than I should, it was something that the elite did.  I shook my head, it was a statistical fact that young upstarts like me went exploring  where we shouldn't too.  We needed to be shown our place, heckled by our betters who we fought so bitterly against.  It was an idiots bravery on our end, and a practice especially common among rogues.  This exploration of enemy land was common, common as dirt.

But this someone was able to move a body, I hadn't heard of it before.  Bodies were almost impossible to move once the spirit fled, it was weird, unless the worst had happened.  I paused, this was the first time I was walking this path, wasn't it?  They said you only started to fear entrapment when a an adventurer you had just met and requested help from was at your side.  But we only knew about those because of the adventurers that took on the quest.  There could be some that were stuck we didn't know about because their repeated path was triggered without the help of the free adventurer. 

Suddenly I paused and looked to the side, the path went on, but the arrow pointed in a ninety degree angle down towards the lake.  I took my first step toward the lake and then another.  I felt my breath catch as I saw my first reflection of the living, a clear indication that I was getting closer to my body, life returning to me.  Finally I saw it, the casket in my mind's eye map showed me where my body had been dumped. 

I winced, as I called my body and life back to me. The closer to where you manifested to your body, the less it would hurt.  But I have no idea what await me now.  The tingling sensation was more like knives, and I almost cried out as my entire body was wracked pain.  I made quick plans to run and get myself back somewhere safe.  When I was far from where my body had been moved, I would use my Hearthstone to transport me back to Stormwind City.  There I could clear my head, go fishing, cook up some grub, pick the pockets of the idiots near the city, and perhaps a few inside it.

Just as I got ready to run, intense heats lit up my body, and I fell.

When my shade made its weary way back to the water, my feet ghosting across the cool liquid.  I crossed to the most pathetically small and close island ever, quickly climbing up where the earth wasn't so harshly angled.  There, the first thing I saw was the living shade of a bear, its mouth open and panting. 

And then I see her.  It's hard to tell her race at first.  She wears a plumed helmet and sits crossed legged, eyes unblinking, as she rests her hand on her chin.  A troll, a big one with a smooth face.  Even without my eyes focused to see her power, it was clear she was a power level far above me.  Here was an adventurer who had probably even gone as far as the Pandarian Shores. 

Suddenly her body shifted a little, her unblinking eyes turning down to look at what appears to be a thick tome in her lap.  Her fingers ghosted across the page of the book.  Her mouth moving as she reads.

My body had been lain beside the troll, and was still a bit wet from the water.  I shivered in disgust as the troll's hand rested on my head, carding through my hair absentmindedly.  A troll.  A troll had stolen me away, I couldn't help but think it was the stupidest beast to ever be born.  I spotted where she kept her bags, fastened about her belt.  Four small, well worn totems hung from the biggest bag.  She was a shaman, a stupid ignorant shaman had stolen me.  Didn't she know any better?  Didn't she know the danger in doing something so drastic?  She could have been condemning us to something ten-times worse than death. 

I couldn't help but wonder again if that was the first time we've played this game right?  I checked my calendar, it is still marked the day I stupidly went past the wall.  I kneeled in front of the troll, trying to figure out what she was thinking.  I grasped when her eyes suddenly sprang up, and for a moment I thought those unblinking, lidless, eyes could see me.  But no, they looked through me.  She was a shaman, connected to the elements, a listener who asked for power, she had no control over the death, no eyes to see the one without being a shade herself. 

I stood just watching her for a time, considering what could be happening what could possibly be going through the troll's mind.  She had killed me twice.  The first time to apparently bring me here, and the second to be sure I didn't run.  What would she do if I appeared where my body was?  If I started breathing but didn't try to run? 

Perhaps she just wanted to talk, though I doubted it.  Did she only need my body, or did she also need my soul inside it when she did whatever she wanted?  I moved toward the troll, trying to see the text she was reading, and was surprised when I realized that not even I knew what was written there.  I looked back at the troll who had returned her gaze to her text, her mouth moving in a way that seemed less pathetic than before.  I thought I had known at least the basics of all languages on Azeroth.  But this, the lines of the words, their configuration, I had no idea what was written there.  Somehow I got the feeling the weird text was connected to why she had stolen me.  Still a stupid troll, but now I understood she was just too interested and inquisitive for her own good, worse than me apparently. 

I laughed.  My teacher's had  been wrong.  It hadn't been my own testing of limits that got me stuck on a loop, but a Horde member with a similar problem. 

Then I closed my eyes.  A tingling sensation went up my spine, just a sensation as it traveled hard up my body like pins and needles.  I didn't shiver, only stared, one hand going to the hilt of a dagger, as I looked at the troll.  It took her a moment to glance up at me.  Her finger stilling on the text as she slowly, lazily, looked up at my face, her expression as placid as ever. 

"What are you thinking?" I asked, leaning in toward her.  Her head tilted to the side, and I sneered at her.  I had talked in common so that she might understand me. Even a troll should know common, especially one who had apparently knew a language even I couldn't read. "Are you trying to trap us?"

The troll just stared into my eyes, and then glanced down to where my hand has started to slip my dagger out of its sheath.  It takes me less than a second to decide to push the blade back inside its sheath, and hold out my hands, showing her that they were empty.  She looked at my hands, then back to me, her eyebrows drawn in shock.  Then her lips lifted, and her chest caught for a moment before she started laughing, big belly laughing. 

"Fine, whatever," I said, admitting that a rogue showing her hands free of a weapons didn't mean she wasn't still dangerous. "But your still a stupid bitch who..."

My breath caught.  At the insult, while the troll continued to smile, small chuckles escaping through her lips, at her fingertips had appeared four colors.  All the colors that elements could take when summoned by a shaman.

"Listen, fine, I'm not the best diplomacy, but you know your actions could damn us right?  Death is quick, and life is ready for you after, but this could kill us permanently or even set us into a loop," I insisted, my eyes glancing to where she still held the elements in her hands.  She smiled sweetly, except that in so doing she showed more of her tusks.  I took a deep breath, not sure what to say to the Horde creature to make her see reason, or at least respond so we could start a dialogue. 

Then her hands reached forward, and while she was smiling, she hit me hard with the spell.  I felt not just like I was burning and freezing all at once, but I also felt like air was going to push out of me, and that roots were ripping through my skull and guts.  The world went dark, and I found myself in front of the Spirit Healer again surrounded by a circle of graves.

I sighed.  If I ever made it out of this, I would keep to the script of all adventurers.  Better to have freedom then be looped and stuck with this stupid troll. 

 


	2. Mine

The next time I came to my body, the tingling sensation made me shiver so hard I must have looked like I was having a fit.  I looked up from where I was lying on my stomach to where the troll was.  The troll glanced over at me and spared a quick smile in my direction, she then returned her attention to her book.  I sat up, and took out of my knives and a vial of Lethal Poison.  I always kept plenty of the poison with me.  It was easy to make, and very effective.  The mixture was a carefully kept secret among all rogues, and to an assassin like me it was especially useful.  The troll continued to ignore me as I added the poison to my knives. 

A wind touched my cheek, playful, almost like a kiss against my cheek.  I glanced over toward the troll.  A tiny smile was playing at her lips and her eyes, somehow, perhaps the way the side of her eyes crinkled, I could tell her sight turned to me.  Her eyes were a steady red color, no pupils or iris, and no lids or at least she never seemed to blink.  It made my eyes dry just looking at her.  The troll flicked her hand out calmly.  I flinched, ready for another casual death.

Thankfully I wasn't that fresh to dying again and again.  My masters saw fit to teach assassins to die over and over again until the sensation and true fear to the feeling of life sucked out during a fight where strike after strike chipped away your health was something I could shrug off. 

I almost squeaked when I saw what appeared in a ball at the troll's side.  Without really thinking, I moved forward, automatically reaching for the little creature completely made of fire.  I dragged it to my chest, the fire only a warm under my fingers, and I buried my face in its fur.  I had a weakness for the small creatures, and this one me particularly cute though made of fire.  I smiled and let the fire lick around my hand as I cooed at the pretty cat. 

There was a small laugh from the troll.  I looked up at her, and I came back to my senses letting the kitten drop to the ground.  The little thing rolled up into a ball and made a happy little mewling sound.  I laughed and then fell back onto my heels.  The troll leaned over and scooped the little creature up, nuzzling it and whispering some rough language into its ear.  The troll looked over at me, a smirk stretching her lips and flashing her teeth in my direction. 

"I wish you'd speak in common," I grumbled. "And tell me what the hell you want from me."

I turned away from her and looked out toward the lake.  I had considered trying to stealth myself away, but the troll had seen through that easily enough the first time.  Hell, she had hunted me down easily enough when I appeared down in the water below the hill with my body.  I tensed and the troll sighed.  I looked up at her to see her turned toward me, lightning playing on her fingertips, that smile playing across her lips. 

The pain sizzled my brain, and unlike before where the pain was complete and quick, this was just quick.  The pain just kept going on and on, the spell apparently cruel or weak enough to not kill me long, but keep it going on and on within my body that made my pain want to fray away. 

Consciousness came back even as the pain made me shiver.  My eyes fluttered open and I looked straight into the troll's curious eyes.  Her hand carded through my hair, her fascination was weird, exploitable, but weird.  I looked up at her and blinked as something hit my eyes.  I glanced around and shivered again.  The shaman had called a healing rain to help smooth my healing, or even save me from another death.  I looked up at her, confused.  It would have been kinder to let me die.  The spell would end with my death, annoying, but then the pain would have stopped and I could have made the long trek back to my body. 

Instead I just stared up as the rain fell, leaving ripples of green against my skin.  I took a slow breath in and called my own ability.  I was an assassin, no stores of mana running through my blood and bones, but I was an herbalist and had a strong connection to the plant life around me through my studies, that granted me a weak ability to tap into the life giving power of the plant life around and heal my body.

The troll made a surprised exclamation, tensing, her fingers digging into my scalp as she stared hard at the ground.  As soon as the panicked look came to her eyes, it went, replaced with laugh lines as the troll chuckled to herself and shook her head.  A green glow filled her hand, and she brushed her fingers against my skin, the pain quickly leaving my body until I was back to full health in moments. 

With a sigh, I sat up, but I wasn't able to move away from the troll.  The shaman kept her long arms wrapped around me, so I ended up sitting on her lap, my head under her chin as she read.  She wasn't easy to kill. She stopped any attempts I made with my blades or any other trick I tried to use to dispatch or even scratch her.  To add insult to injury, she did it without thought or noticing beyond repositioning me so I was back in an comfortable position for her to cuddle.  I started hating her with an intense passion.  An more intense passion.  This was seriously boring.  This game she was playing had gone past being dangerous to just being irritating.  I swore that if I ever did find out I was looped into this position with this idiot I would find away to kill her, even if I had to start hiring adventurers to do so.  If I was lucky, the world would change and allow that death to stick.

At some point, I zoned out.  I didn't fall asleep exactly, but the world around me seemed to disappear.  I got lost in my thoughts, and then my thoughts evened out, getting caught in the ripples that spread through the lake.  After a while I came back to myself, groaning after being held in the same position for so long.  My legs folded so that they were now asleep.  Unfortunately, the troll wasn't moving.  I glanced at the book, but I really had nothing to go on, nothing to help me figure out the text.  The symbolism wasn't anything I had seen or could piece together. 

So I ended up staring at her arm for a while.  It was this sheer blue color.  I didn't know anything about trolls.  In my studies they just happened to be the ones I studied the least.  Maybe because they seemed so utterly boring.  From history to physique.  Despite having, what I am told, is a rich an old background in Azeroth, they never did anything to stray from the typical, and their fall was just pathetic.  At some point I've wanted to take a knife to almost every species, especially intelligent species, and dissect it, figure out how it worked.  But trolls, I felt like I'd already dissected them when I dissected other races.  Now I was more adventurous, ready for a tauren, more than ready for an undead.  To dissect a troll seemed a step backward.

So what did blue skin, as opposed to green skin, mean to a troll anyway? 

The trolls eyes caught mine for a moment, and we just stared at one another, my eyes never able to leave hers.  Suddenly her face morphed, that flat face with neutral expression changed, the folds of her face appearing and then twisting with a mad smile. 

"What are you..?" I squeaked, a pathetic sort of screaming choking up through my chest as the troll seemed to engulf me.  She leaned over me, one hand wrapping around my throat, the other gripping my thigh near my groin.  Then she started to speak, the language weird, the hissing and teeth gnashing splashing spit against my shaking body.  Then the world went black again. 

My fingers tingled hard as I came awake.  With a sigh, I slowly rolled myself onto my stomach.  I hadn't blacked out like this so many times again and again before.  Now I looked to the side, with some trepidation to where the troll was ignoring me.  Completely ignoring me.  It was actually kind of creepy.  Instead of reading her book, she was writing, pen flashing across the page, only pausing to dip for more ink.  I moved slowly, and I thought I saw her brow crinkle a little, but she made no move toward me to stop me.

Was that it?  Was I free.  My mood soared, and I tested my theory.  Turning to sneak invisible back through the gate and then go home to Stormwind to cook and create until my nerves settled and I could start taking quest and leveling up like a normal adventurer.  The more careful steps I was able to make from the crazy troll, the better I felt.  Each step felt like freedom, though the way the water rippled as I walked through it made my heart stutter.  Finally I was walking step by step past the worgen, toward the road.  I was careful not to get too close, not in horde territory, especially not after this particular adventure. 

Then I felt it.  Extreme pain circulated through my entire boy.  This time the world didn't go dark, it just felt like I had been hit by a particularly powerful stun spell and my body collapsed onto the wet grass.  Fear circulated in my mind what was going on?  What spell had the shaman hit me with this time?

"Well, that answers that," came a lazy drawl.  My mind tensed in a sympathy echo of what my body should have been doing.  Because I knew that voice.  The troll didn't talk often, but she muttered enough to herself that I knew what she sounded life, her accent harsh and tinted by wherever she came from. Long arms drew around my neck and knees and lifted me bridle style so I was looking up at her calm, almost impassive face. She looked down on me, and that mad smile sent shivers running across my body. "Hello sweets.  You didn't really think it would be that easy to get away from me, now did you?"

Without even waiting for my answer, the troll dropped me to the ground.  I hit the ground and rolled, coming up with a crouch and a knife in my hands.  The troll watched me with an eyebrow raised, looking at the knife with an interested frown.  We stared at each other until I coated poison on the blades.  We continued to stare at each other, but I still thought it would be close to suicide actually try to attack.  She was obviously much more powerful than me.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she asked, head cocking to one side. 

"Why can I understand you now?" I asked.  The troll huffed, the plumes on her helmet dancing in the wind that surrounded us for a brief moment.  With a thump, the troll landed on her ass and took out a thick sheet of paper, an ink well, and pen.  She dipped the pen in and immediately started to write. "I want answers!"

The troll looked up, her mouth twisted up now in what could almost be a smile, and her eyes had a glimmer of something, but the rest of her face had that flat doll like quality to it. "Of course, sweets," she said, but instead of answering me, she gave a small wiggle of her fingers on the pen and a dog appeared.  It was shaggy, tiny, with a barrel of beer under its chin which the troll then somehow filled an entire huge green mug of with beer from.  The troll went to take a sip, and her eyes met mine, my body somehow managed to tighten further.  I'd have to be careful or my muscles would lock, and then the troll's fingers unraveled around the bright tankard and the drink disappeared into the air.

"You look thirsty Sweets.  Drink up.  When the sun officially rises in the sky, we're going to be taking a little trip," said the troll.  I looked at her in confusion, not sure what she meant.  Then something told me to check my bags.  I automatically reached for where they should have been hanging about my waist, but I also automatically went crossed eyed, as it were, and brought up a view of what I had within my mind's eye.  There, in my bag, was warm mulled alterac brandy.  I didn't dare touch it.

I glanced to where the pup is wagging his head back and forth, the tanks of brandy on his side somehow not spilling over, just sending alcohol bubbles into the air.  The pup let out a pathetic whine, and the troll looked up with a fond smile and scratched at his head, before going back to her writing.  I looked at both of them, the little dog Drool and the troll...

"Tzara," I said.  The troll looked up, meeting my eyes with her own red ones.

"Yes Sweets?  I can't give you more brandy until you drink what I already gave you," said Tzara, she took off her ridiculous helmet, the thing disappearing as she put it away.  She shook her head, a cascade of green hair pulled back with a rope fell down her back, and her blue ears shook a little, the earrings free finally to jangle about.

"My name is Meranlie," I said sharply.  The troll just laughed.

"I can see your name," she said, her voice rough and textured with an unannounced laughter.  I glowered at her.  I shook loose my muscles, wondering if I should dare try to run again.  There was the chance she would just incapacitate me the way she did before. "You aren't actually planning on running again are you?"

I felt my cheeks turn red in embarrassment.  Was I that transparent?  But I bit it down to a surely glower. 

"Why are you keeping me here?" I asked, biting off each word.  The troll put her pen behind one ear and just stared at me for a few minutes, as if she was assessing me, her face holding that smooth unassuming expression that it took on.

"You know, I think it will piss you off enough," the troll drawled finally.  My fingers tightened so hard around my knives I was afraid my fingers would cramp.  How I wanted to ram my daggers into her chest where a heart was supposed to be.  I didn't even want to dissect her.  I thought that I had become desensitized to killing.  After that first rush of killing someone permanently, killing just hadn't done what it was supposed to for me.  There was no thrill of getting the upper hand on an enemy, the certainty that by spilling their blood that you would save innocents from their menace. 

There was none of that anymore, not ever again, I had been unlucky enough to experience that knowledge that led to my training.  Because death meant nothing anymore, not mine, and not anyone else's because you just came back, and if you killed anyone but an adventurer, then when they came back, they wouldn't even remember what you had done.  It meant nothing. 

And yet I couldn't imagine it being anything  but satisfactory to dig my daggers in and twist and gut the life from this troll, to watch her struggle to find and use her magic and utterly fail to kill me.  Even if she came back, it would be worth, it just to see.  Just to experience her death at my hands at least once. 

Probably not an all together healthy or Alliance friendly thought, for all that I'm an assassin, better to get myself back to a "safe-zone" and just make my way like a good little adventurer from area to area, sticking to those my level and traversing the lower levels when I wanted to learn a little more about Azeroth, was being lazy, or was just a bit nostalgic. 

"You're mine sweets," said Tzara, shaking my concentration on my thoughts and I immediately looked over to her.  I tensed and then lost my temper a bit.

"I belong to myself, just because you're an over powerful jerk wad doesn't mean you get to bully me," I practically screamed.  Tzara just tilted her head, looking vaguely amused as she mouthed "jerk wad," rolling her tongue across her teeth and fangs like she is testing it out. I took a deep breath. "Plus, what do you need me for?  Your experiment obviously didn't work out.  Fix it and catch another low level loser to experiment on."

"And how do you know my experiment didn't work?" asked Tzara, her attention stolen by Drool for the moment.  She produced another mug of alterac ale, guzzling it down in seconds and patting the dog absently as she stared hard at me.

"I'm not..." I waved at myself, sure something would have changed about me, not just the world going wonky for a moment if whatever she had hissed at me had worked. 

"Hm, and yet you collapsed in pain when trying to run from me, and I can easy access your bags.  No that sounds like the connection I assumed we begin with when I claimed you with that spell," said Tzara.  My entire body froze up so hard I was afraid I was going to have a full body charlie horse the moment I tried to move again. 

"I'm not yours," I hiss, and shifted the knives in my hands.  Loosening my grip so that i had a chance to kill her.  The troll's face shifted and she'd definitely smiled, not paying any attention to her work or to Drool.  I decide to take a chance.  I probably won't kill her, but she would kill me.  And once dead, well, all bets are off.  Very few spells keep to adventurer's once they died, and I had never heard of a negative spell sticking to you after death.

So I tried to attack.

I failed miserably.  Before I had really got myself into position, really, as soon as I was certain that I was about to attack the smug troll, my body seared with pain and my muscles locked hard.  I fell to the ground gasping, and when I had forced my eyes open I was looking at one blue, ridiculous foot. 

"Now, let's see what happens when I try," purred the troll, and suddenly I was filled with intense, sparking, pain, and then the world went white and black. 

With a smile, I looked up at the Spirit Healer.  Ah the joys of being incorporeal.  I glanced around the huge graveyard, weird, but I'm sure there are worse places to manifest.  I walked to the Spirit Healer, she knew my intention and warned against it.  After all, the effort it takes to drag my body caused a lot of wear on my armor, and I'd been an easy kill until the resurrection sickness wears off which usually took about ten minutes.

Still, I'm high enough level that as long as I don't run head long into an aggressive beast or a horde camp then Silverpine Forest would be where I stayed, constantly running as far as I could away from Tzara.  With one last nod of acknowledgement that yes, I understood what doing this would mean, the Spirit Healer let out an echoing sigh and light filled my vision and body as I was brought back to life. 

Really, my luck was just not holding out.  I should have scooped out the place better before actually manifesting, because when I was brought to life again, the living beings of Azeroth became visible to my eyes and I found myself looking at a bent foresaken Dreadguard with tattered armor, shield, and huge sword.  I stood like a deer in lamplight, completely idiotic and frozen in shock.  The Deadguard just stared, his mouth falling open a bit more, his pace steady until his brain finally put together what was happening, and unfortunately it was too late for me to run. 

But he didn't kill me, just grabbed my wrist.  I looked at him in confusion, my muscles bunched, ready to run as fast and as far as I could.  He just stored at me as if confused.  He wasn't even really looking at me, instead just above my head, staring at where my name and other such information could be found if you looked right.  He must have been a bit brain-dead because, besides not killing me on the spot, he seemed to be mouthing the words he read.

I squeaked as his sword cut a bit into my side creating a small gash the lazily dripped blood.  The Dreadguard grunted, nodding to himself, before he looked back to me.  His gaze still hazy, he finally seemed to make a decision, and even as I started twisting and using every trick I knew to try and run, I knew that in moments I would be dead. 

"She's mine," boomed Tzara, her voice seeming to shake the very headstones.  The Dreadguard instantly halting his movement, sword appearing be stuck in the air as he slowly turned to look over.  I felt my gut churn, and I almost felt like I was about to throw up, whether it was because I had been caught so easily or the resurrection sickness, it was hard to tell.

The troll walked toward me, a smirk twisting and wrinkling her face.  She reached out a hand toward me, and I tried to run, my legs finally listening to me.  But the Dreadguard's grip didn't lessen on my arm, and suddenly it was like I was being pulled toward Tzara by my neck.  My feet stumbled out from under me, and I finally forced myself to look at her glaring.  Then I saw something-- her gloves were apparently off and there was this odd thick black vines of tattoos that went around one wrist.  

"Now sweets, I think that it is time we had some real fun," Tzara purred, pulling my chin so we were only inches apart.  I growled at her, hate pouring from me.  Somehow she was right.  I didn't know how, but I had become her plaything.


	3. Masters of Fate

A human in the land of the dead, in the hands of a troll.  Yeah, I was so much worse than dead.  It wasn't even funny how I'd ended up in a situation where if I ran too far from this troll, I'd end up completely unable to move.  I was under whatever spell she had caste on me, and I had no idea how to free myself.  This troll was either going to get us stuck on a loop, or get me turned into one of the undead. 

No, seriously, that was her goal.  She apparently thought she was hilarious. 

As we walked on, there was a certain eeriness to the area.  The purple lights glowed around the path and we went through a covered bridge with a what I was sure was a carved skull on it and something called a gnath under it that I never actually got to saw.  Just its name and health meter.  I had a feeling that I needed to keep that sight.  I might get a headache, but I wouldn't be caught off guard. 

We were almost run over by a subdued forest ettin.  Then we ran into a place where worgen and undead were fighting practically in the middle of the road.  I apparently amused the hell out of the troll when I jumped and practically clung to her on seeing them.

"Well, well, what's wrong sweets?  Don't you like you're worgen brethren?  I would have thought you'd run to them in some forgetful idiotic chance they could save you from me," Tzara said, bringing me close to her in a parody of a hug.  I felt a tingle of warning run through the hand that instinctively went to the knife at my side.  The troll's face wrinkled as a wicked smiled split her lips.

"I wonder, maybe I should find a nice worgen to hold you in front of.  There's got to be some way to infect you," Tzara held my chin and I felt myself tremble a little, but then she sighed. "Though then you'd still be Alliance, and what fun would that be?  I've already got little gnome helper.  No, I think the undead look would suit you much better."

I felt the blood leave my face and tripped along as the stupid troll pulled me.  I definitely did not want to be undead, and I very much doubted that I could be.  I mean, that would break the new rules of Azeroth I was pretty sure.  Yet the troll just smiled widely and dragged me behind her.  She paused momentarily, looking toward a ditch where Dark Rangers and Catapults protected it, though what was there.  I didn't know, but we moved even from that.  Walking even past the gates of the Silverpine Forest, leaving more putrid green slime to be pumped into the air.  And yes, the smell did actually make me gag. 

Thankfully we didn't head inside Undercity.  Instead, we turned left and walked into a field littered with trees and really boring huge bats and blue dogs.  Yeah, that wasn't what it was called, but I expected so much more.  That was why I started panicking and trying everything I could to get out of the troll's hold.  Not because I was scared.  There was no way for the psychotic troll to turn me undead, I didn't think.  I was pretty sure her investment had been in seeing if her spell book would work on me, not in exploring what she could do once she had me.  Now I wondered if she didn't hold onto me with cackling laughter simply because she didn't want me to knock myself silly by going too far from her and having the spell catch me.

We entered what could only be the undead training grounds then.  Dreadguards watched us, obviously wondering what I was.  I mean, my profile, clear as day, marked me as belonging to Tzara, but I definitely wasn't some sort of weird pet.  One I was way too big, second Tzara had her own Drool out.  Casually taking out beer and downing them when she felt I was in enough control.  Some nutcase yelled at us about money, a bit hard to understand him when he was yelling through what sounded like a broken jaw and rattling teeth. 

We continued on.  The lampposts now glowed green instead of purple, and I was afraid the training grounds would be as dreadfully boring as the rest of this place was until we entered a small town where skeletons and ghouls roamed.  Not completely shocking, I was surprised how many Forsaken seemed to be mindlessly wandering around, no thoughts in their heads.   Tzara leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"Not everyone is reborn survives.  Sometimes the mind is unable to return with the body and you get these mindless creatures," Tzara whispered.  I shivered.  Bad enough to brought back into a body that was decaying, worse to lose yourself and become rotting beast.  Of course, these were the most common, but the Forsaken, through some will actually were able to think, to use their mind and interact with the world around them in a conscious way. 

We then went past a couple of Dreadgaurds to a city where apparently the undead with clear and sharp minds were brought to teach new recruits to work and fight in their decaying bodies.  Infusing their waking minds with the skills and beliefs of violence and a love for their leader Sylvanus. 

"And here are the Deathknell Graves," the troll whispered in my ears as a Forsaken adventurer past us with an imp at his heels.  Tzara then proceeded to throw me bodily toward the grates, cackling as I stumbled.  I looked around, glanced back at the shaman, who just lifted an eyebrow, as if daring me to try and run away again.  I just glared at her, looking around and hoping that the mindless zombies wouldn't bite me. "You're pathetic."

"Drop dead," I hissed.  The troll rolled her eyes and turned her back on me.  I tried to go for the daggers at my side. 

"Yo, Arthura!" shouted the troll as she turned to one of the val'kyr that was hovering around.  I watched the thing uneasily, not liking the glow or how the two things circled round and round.  Tzara chased them around for a while, looking rather ridiculous.  I kept getting strange looks from the Forsaken that the val'kyr brought up.  Once in a while it was another mindless one, but then there were the ones that seemed indignant about being raised from the dead and actually appeared to will themselves dead again.  I sat with my back against a gravestone and just watched as the carnival I continued, and couldn't help but wonder that if Tzara somehow did get me to come back as a corpse if I would have the will to do that to myself.

Really, for a graveyard, the Deathknell was very active.  There were undead being born, with ranges from mindless violence, suicide, complete mental breakdown, to refuse to believe they were dead, and complete acceptance.  There were Forsaken that came to ask for new parts, jaws and the like from those still in the grave.  It was all rather fascinating and wonderful.  I found myself next to the one stitching Undead together.  I didn't dare actually try to dissect the Undead around me, but I did watch as the Undead's jaw got stitched together. 

"Damn," said Tzara, coming to stand next to me and glaring up at where Arthura was still circling around. "I can't get either of their attention.  I should have known."

"Known?" I asked without thinking.  The Forsaken giving out new jaws glanced our way before returning his attention to his work.

"Yes, technically she sacrificed herself for Lady Sylvanas over in Silverpine Forest.  So she's not only looped for death, but she's a looped character who still has to interact with the outside world," Tzara huffed in disgust as she watched Arthura's flight. 

"Her sacrifice was noble," said Undertaker Mordo, talking reverently with the most normal sounding voice imaginable.  It was just wrong on so many levels.  He should have a growly, death rattling voice.  Instead he sounded like any man put to a task he only did because his master said it needed to be done. "The greatest honor any of us would wish."

"Urg," the troll complained, making an unattractive face. "Right, that's why I don't hang around the Forsaken.  It's like they cloned my sister's mind and then put her in undead bodies."

The Undertaker gave her an unimpressed scowl. "Is there a reason you are here with your pet, troll?"

"I wanted to transform her," said Tzara with a wicked smile as she brought me up next to her and pinched my cheeks. "She's lovely this way, but it tends to create a bit of a fuss when I try to take her anywhere crowded.  They keep trying to murder her and it gets old.  I was hoping to give her an undead makeover."

The Undertaker shook his head. "Not possible," he growled.  Tzara opened her mouth, obviously ready to tell him why it would be a good idea, but the Undertaker just lifted a hand as if asking for peace. "It doesn't work now, and her body isn't nearly as decayed as it is needed."

"I'm pretty sure I've seen new dead people be reborn," said Tzara. "And what about these graves?"

"They're bodies from before," said the Undertaker. "Supposedly."

"Supposedly?" asked Tzara. The Undertaker sighed.

"Sometimes their past seems to be born with them," said the Undertaker, watching as another potential Forsaken was born. "The only way to become Undead once you have been a part of this world is to enter into the very structure of it, as I have."

As if to clarify what he meant when he said that, the Forsaken that had been coming for a new jaw returned again and the Undertaker gave him another new jaw.

"Does he even know he's looped?" I asked. 

"No," said the Undertaker, then he turned to the troll again. "Why would you want to turn her into a Forsaken anyway?  If she becomes one of the Undead under the val'kyr, then she will be under the hold of Sylvanas and not you."

Tzara sighed and groaned as she let her head fall back on a grave.  I watched her, completely unimpressed with how stupid the shaman that had caught me was.  I hoped that my expression got across how right I had been.  I mean, obviously doing something like this would make us looped. 

I then quickly jumped away from her as lightning danced at her fingertips and she smirked in my direction.  I even tried to hide behind the Undertaker. 

"Come on, you can't change me, not without looping me," I said, continuing to keep the Undertaker between me and her. "We're lucky you haven't looped us yet.  So let me go.  My friends in the Alliance will be coming to get me soon."

"You don't have friends.  You don't even have a guild," said the troll, throwing a ball of lightning in the air as she lazily circled us.

"Just because I don't have a guild, doesn't mean I have friends," I snapped. "You don't have a guild."

"And how do you know I don't have a guild?" asked Tzara.  I went to snap an answer, but realized that I just knew that Tzara had no guild and no friends either.  No one would look for her either if something terrible happened.  Well, perhaps her sister, and somehow I didn't think that claiming an imaginary family at this point would go over as well as claiming friends. 

"Plus, would the Alliance even take you back?" asked the Undertaker. 

"Why wouldn't it?" I asked, looking at the Undertaker in irritation. 

"You aren't trying very hard to get away from her," he said. I blushed, I had tried to get away from Tzara.  I turned to defend myself, not even entirely sure what I would say when a lightning bolt took me in the back, and I found myself falling to the ground and my eyes opening into a world of shades.  I stomped my way back into the field.  I glared at them, watching as the Undertaker took on his role as a quest giver and stitches to the looped even as he chatted with Tzara, though I didn't care what they were actually saying to each other. 

I instead stood in the shade world close enough to my body to see the shades of people, and even the nagging knowledge that I could spawn if I wanted.  I glanced to the Forsaken next to me. Another Forsaken, a looped creature name Caretaker Caice.  And then I just got angry.  Really, really angry, and all I could think was that I wanted to destroy something and since this Forsaken was low level, I decided that, well, if I couldn't temporarily kill the Horde member that I wanted to, I could do kill another.  Even if it caused me pain, it would be worth it.  Pain was something I was very familiar with. 

When I spawned, it only took moments to reapply my poison and take the killing swing at the Undead caretaker.  I didn't even knick him.  I passed him completely through him, and he hardly even spared me a glance.  I looked at my daggers, then the space between us, and then try again viciously swiping at the Caretaker.  Eventually he grabbed my arm. "Yes?" he drawled.

"What are you doing Sweets?" asked the troll.  I turned to see Tzara strolling toward me.  The Undertaker watched but didn't go toward her or release his grip on my arm.  I hoped that since he was looped his feet were virtually glued to the ground. 

"Is this," the Caretaker paused and looked up at where my name was visible, "Meranlie yours?"

"Yup," said the troll, not moving to take me from his grip, just staring at us with that stupid grin.

"And you didn't stop her?" he asked.

"Stop her from what?" asked Tzara, and this time she looked at me as she answered. "Being less annoying than a gnat?  She couldn't even touch you."

I let out a feral snarl, but thankfully was not the only one unimpressed with the troll's response since the Caretaker also curled what was left of his lip in disgust.

"I loathe you," he said with venom and wrenched my arm as he threw me at Tzara.  The troll easily caught me, that irritating grin never leaving her face.  She gave a mock salute to the man and started to march me out of the graveyard.

"Come visit again," said the Undertaker.  I turned back as Tzara continued to pull me away, but I couldn't see his expression to tell if he was being sarcastic.  The Caretaker seemed to have already forgotten about us and was staring out with a glassy expression out into nothing. 

The stupid troll pulled me further and further away.  Back toward the Tiristal Glades.  When we made it back through the gates, I was finally able to wrench myself from her grip.  A phantom tingling sensation warning me what would happen if I dared to be any rougher with the troll.  I gripped my teeth and snarled, taking a slow step away from her.  Not far, as if there were a hundred weighted metals attached to my legs. 

"Why continue this?  You failed.  You couldn't do the worst to me.  You can't even loop me without looping yourself, so what exactly is your plan?" I demanded, almost screaming near the end as I felt my body tense with anger. 

"Worst I can do?" asked Tzara, her face evening out though there continued to be hint of a smile in her red eyes.  The troll walked toward me, gait swaying as she sauntered my way.  I started to back away from her.  The way she was acting was sending a sensation of fear up my spine.

"Stop," Tzara demanded, the smile disappearing for a moment.  It felt like my legs had been tied to the ground, weights added so heavy that I couldn't dream of even trying to take another step.  Instead, I became a pathetic shaking mess as the troll reached me, her naked fingers gripping my forearm and cheek.  There was the brief sensation of electricity against my skin as Tzara caressed me, and then she dug in.  Her fingers sinking in slowly up to her knuckle as my blood started to run in a beads and then a thin river down her hand and soak into her bracers.

"Really, the worse I can do is turn you into one of the Forsaken or loop you?" asked Tzara.  She chuckled and moved her hand, like she was going to rip down the skin of my arms and face.  My health meter ticked down drop by drop, as I continued to shake in fear. "You have no imagination and are so young."

The troll actually sounded angry, even as she chuckled.  Then she pulled out, sharp pain drawing out a gasp of pain and red blood throwing  staining my shirt.  I raised a hand to where the wounds were rapidly closing, the blood that had started to drip down my cheek soon the only proof of what the troll had done.  The troll then drew me into the hug.  I felt my body tense up, waiting for pain to light up as she ripped into my body.  Instead she rested her chin on the top of my head, and hummed a line or two of a lullaby.

"So, what are you going to do instead?" I asked with a stuttering breath. "Going to rip me up again and again?  Going to see what makes a human tick?"

"Is that what you were doing so far into Forsaken land?" asked Tzara, her voice soft and calming. "Do you like ripping things apart to find out how they tick?"

The troll laughed when I pushed her away.  Letting me go.  I crashed down to the ground, body spasming in pain.  I looked up at her as the attack slowly stopped, glaring up at her.

"You're going to damn us," I hissed at her, arms wrapped around my body.

"We haven't been looped yet," said the troll, crouching down beside me. "And isn't life more interesting now that something is actually happened?  Now come on.  While I think of something else to do, I might as well get that book written down again, and since I used all of your paper.  I need to go get some more of my own."

"My paper?" I asked, sitting up.  The troll rolled her eyes and grabbed me by the hair and forced me to stand. 

"Well yeah, I told you that I had access to your bags right?" Tzara said.  It might have ridiculous considering everything else that had happened.  But I definitely didn't want this stupid troll to have access to anything of mine.  Tzara just rolled her eyes at me and started down the path again, sure I would follow.  I was tempted to just stand there glaring at her, but then the troll would either let me fall in pain and pick me up or she would kill me and drag my body away until I respawned. 

Instead, I ended up not only following her on my own but also walking right next to her because I didn't want to be harassed by passing Horde members.  Tzara watched me in interest, and even smirked when I came to stand at her shoulder as they went over another covered bridge as Tzara seemed to have given up going the short way and was now following the path again.

"Welcome to Brill," she whispered as we entered a Forsaken town.  I took it all in slowly.  It wasn't nearly as morbid or disgusting as I had hoped, but the almost normality of it against a darkening sky seemed to throw forward everything unnatural about it.  I jumped a little as a bat screeched, apparently stretching its huge wings as it waited upside down while it waited for someone who needed its services to take them to another zone or area.  I wondered if all Horde flying masters used bats as their way around.  I couldn't remember at the moment if I had seen a Horde member flying on the back of a barrowed mount before today.

Further into Brill appeared to be where some sort of experiment was happening currents of blue electricity going up, making a popping aggressive hiss on its way.  At a table nearby two Forsaken glanced up from their bubbling potions, and at the next an apparent first aid trainer showed an adventurer how to create linen bandages next to a stinking, rotting, ogre corpse.

"Keep up," hissed Tzara, and headed inside one of the buildings where a Forsaken named Innkeeper Renee shouted incomprehensibly at up while pointing to me.  Tzara just smiled and held up her hands, palms forward but not sending me outside.  I was tempted to run out anyway, not wanting to get attacked, remembering how the Dreadgaurd held me in his grasp so easily.  I wondered if I shouldn't go outside despite Tzara's lack of concern, or maybe partially because of it.  When the troll's hand wrapped around my forearms and dragged me forward with her. 

"Hello Abigail Shiel," said Tzara.

"What now?" snapped the vendor thickly.  Most of the skin around her lips and even nose had been eaten away to reveal dark, festering mold, and her yellow eyes shinned out like spotlights from her decaying, purple flesh.

"I'm looking for parchment," said Tzara easily.  The vendor reached out, and in her almost claw like grip appeared light parchment. I snorted.  I might not be very advanced myself in inscription, but that was the weakest and hardest kind of parchment to work with.  Tzara glanced my way. "What's wrong with this, Sweets?"

"Nothing is wrong with my parchment," snapped the vendor, the bones in her elbows clicking in agitation as she tried to glare me down. "Why are you even listening to this stupid Alliance slave?"

"She's not a slave.  She's my pet, and she knows far more about parchment then I do," said Tzara, hardly paying attention, eyes only for the parchment.  She turned to me. "Well Sweets, why shouldn't I buy this?"

"Because it's weak," I answered before my brain could catch up with my training to answer these types of questions without thinking. "When I had to use it, the paper would always almost crumble under my fingers while I was working."

"My goods are not sloppy," hissed the vendor. I snorted.

"I didn't say they were, but I know that kind of parchment is not made for delicate scripts."

"You aren't going to buy this crap from a filthy human?" snarled the vendor and Tzara shrugged.

"Thank you, Abigail, but I think I need slightly higher quality of wares.  Is there anyone in Undercity you would recommend?" asked Tzara pleasantly.  The Undead woman practically growled.

"Get out of here Alliance lover," hissed the vendor.  Before I could blink Tzara's amiable smile had disappeared and Abigail's skin was moving unnaturally under the troll's fingers as the troll held the vendor's neck in a tight grip, almost lifting the Forsaken vendor up by her throat.

"I'd be careful what I said, Abigail.  You were once a filthy human yourself, and I'm starting to wonder if you wouldn't look better with all your innards strewn across this room," hissed the troll with one of her more feral grins.  The Forsaken woman struggled uselessly in the troll's grip, snarling.

"If you do that then you'll have every forsaken from here to the Undercity gunning for your death," the vendor snarled, but Tzara's smile just widened.

"Now that sounds like fun," the troll hissed.

"Get out of my inn!" shouted the Innkeeper.  Tzara glanced her way, but instead of getting angry, her smile smoothed out to something kinder and she let the vendor go.

"Come on Sweets," said Tzara, guiding me out. As we walked out of the town, the troll slung an arm over my shoulder.

"This would probably be easier if you didn't have me out with you," I pointed out.  I almost hoped that if I could be dismissed like a common pet, I could able to forget and sleep away most of this nightmare. 

"Probably, but I can't banish you away like my other pets," said Tzara, I gulped and looked at her, not sure if I liked that fact or not. "Don't worry, you shouldn't be attacked, you even are marked as part of the Horde now."

"What?" I demanded and the troll laughed, throwing her head back.

"Oh, calm down my little rogue.  If you behave we'll see about finding an almost catatonic looped Undead and see if we can't get you close enough to study to your heart's content, though I'm afraid even almost catatonic you won't be able to dissect," whispered Tzara.  I pulled back to contradict her, but she just pushed back a strand of my hair and drew me up for another hug.  I felt my breath catch a little as her fang rested against my cheek as she pushed our heads so we were cheek to cheek.  Perhaps it was better to just go with it for the moment.  The more she trusted me, the more I could learn about this situation, and maybe she would let it slip how I could be free of her once and for all. 

 


	4. Changing the Horde

Tzara was insane, well, obviously, but I couldn't believe she was actually taking me to the Undercity.  We entered through the gates, and I got an eyeful of the ruins of Lordaeron.  I might not have been a huge history buff, but I didn't know anyone who didn't know the name Arthas, and anyone who was human had heard what he did to Lordaeron.

"Can you really hear the ghosts of the massacre in the throne room?" I asked, looking around at the crumbling stone and shivering when I realized that there were gravestones in the middle of the yard.

"Spooky, huh?" asked Tzara, making me jump a little at how close she had gotten to my ear.  I glared over my shoulder at the obnoxious troll and rubbed my ear where her hot breath had brushed against it.  We made our way across a wooden bridge where not only the smell of what was under us caught my attention, but the sheer neon green of it.  Instead of water in the moat around the castle door, there was this slime that beyond being offensive to the sight, was worse to the nose.  It smelled like a thousand farts combined with rotting carcasses and excretion.  My nose tried to bury itself in my face even as I walked cautiously forward to peer into the gunk, trying to see if a bone or half a carcass of a horse or something would bob to the surface.

My shirt tried to choke me as I was pulled back into a cuddle with the obnoxious shaman, who nuzzled my neck and chuckled.

"As much fun as it would be to watch you swim in that crap, Sweets," said the troll and then she actually nipped my ear, "I would rather not deal with the smell afterwards.  Maybe we can go for a dip after we're done in the Undercity."

I glared at her, but she just let go of me enough to get out of her hold.  The troll laughed, but let me dance away from her grip.  I was almost immediately run over by another high level adventurer.  I cursed and watched as the orc on his ridiculous mount went by without even glancing my way.  I mean, at least even the low level are alert and knowledgeable enough to wonder what is going on when a human was entering their horde city.  Instead this guy just walked on by like it was a normal for humans with horde members as their designations to be wandering into their territory.

The path led us to a stone chair.  I slowly meandered to the middle of the room where light filtered down.  I don't know what drew me, but for a time I felt frozen where I stood.  Breath caught as I just stared at the empty chair. 

Then someone ran through me.  Literally ran through me.  I let out a little squeak and noticed the very thinly garbed, no doubt low level blood elf pick up her heels and sprint away from me.  I looked down on my hands, sure that they were as incorporeal as a ghost.  Had Tzara somehow really killed me in that graveyard and then pretended I was human to ease my way into the horde.  Or since this was Tzara, probably to screw with my head.

Then Tzara's ridiculous staff knocked me silly, my health taking a severe dip.  I coughed and went for my blades, but pain laced up my fingers and paralyzed my arms even as the shaman turned me over.  I got a glimpse of a smooth, emotionless face with a clawed hand surrounded with electricity before the claws bit hard into my chest and my body convulsed even as my spirit fled.

Thankfully I didn't go far, just to the gravestones outside the door.  Of course, when I made my way back to the stone chair, I realized that the stupid troll had moved my body again.  I sighed and looked to see where the arrow led me.  Down a corridor or two I found Tzara sitting on her knees in front of a Kro-kron Overseeing orc, petting my hair and cooing at my body.  I made a disgusted grunt and was sure to materialize a good four feet away from her and glared for all I was worth.  The stupid troll just smiled.  Standing up and brushing herself off. 

"Hello there Sweets, you ready?" asked Tzara and a panel behind her opened fast with a snick revealing a round room on the other side.  I stared at it, confused for a moment before crossing my arms stubbornly and glaring.  The troll looked unimpressed, folding her own arms as the door quickly slammed down shut behind her. "Or I could go down myself and let you suffer the effects of being away from me."

"Why did you kill me?" I asked quickly, hoping to keep her from leaving me on the ground unable to move, the very thought of it sending a shiver of fear that clouded my mind and almost made me scream the question.

"Because I wanted to know if you were really there or had somehow become intangible or something," said the troll.  I stared at her for a moment, a twinge going up my arm that made me twitch.

"You do realize that you have been touching me and that you didn't have to kill me to figure it out?" I demanded.  The troll just shrugged.  "You're an idiot."

"That's my Sweets," said the troll with a happy, crinkly smile.  She turned abruptly to head into the newly opened door.  I quickly followed her, just making it before the door slid quickly down behind me.  I sighed and then squeaked, crouching to the ground.  I glanced over to see Tzara was happily jumping into the air, apparently enjoying the suspension and falling back with that stupid grin on her face.  Finally the lift stopped and Tzara picked me up by the armpits and swung me out of the chamber. "While we do need to do more of that to acclimate you to basic ways of travel.  We have shit to do, and I want to do it now."

"And you're the important one," I snapped.  The troll gave me a slap on the back.

"I'm glad to see that you can learn," said Tzara happily.  I might have tried to deck her then, but Tzara easily steered me so we were heading down the path toward the middle of the city and I turned a distinct shade of putrid green.  It stunk.  To this day, I'm not sure how to describe it.  For a while I thought I was either imagining or exaggerating the smell in my mind, or that Tzara had put some horrible spell on me.  But no, I eventually caught sight of a blood elf who seemed to be under the same sort of idea and to the amusement of those around him, he throwing up.  I didn't upchuck, but it was a close thing.  I actually seemed to have a complete sense of myself for a couple of seconds, and when I did come to I was leaning against Tzara who was leading me into a huge round chamber where that neon green junk flowed out of stone carved sculls to collect below. 

"You coming to?" asked the troll, and I was surprised to note she actually sounded irritated.  She caught my eye and roll her eyes. "The Horde really is horrendous at making jokes.  I swear, in the last minute that you've been reeling, I've been asked by every passing idiot if all the color jumped off you when you realized that the undead actually had their own city."

"Of course I know they had their own city," I said, and then gulped, tasting a little bit of acid in my throat. "That's completely retarded."

"Like I said, horde humor, everyone is so original," said the troll dryly. 

"You're part of the Horde," I snapped at her.

"Isn't it embarrassing?" asked the troll.  I glanced over at her, trying to figure out if she was being ironic. "But it's home.  Now, let's go to the bank first.  I think I have some snowballs with your name on them."

We went down a thin wood bridge.  I took a moment to look around.  I mean, yes this was the worst situation I had somehow stumbled into, but what other time was I going to be able to just stroll through Horde territory.  Alright, the fact I had to do it while tied to a horde moron and surrounded by the idiots also.  It was actually really impressive. The entire thing was a carved out stone chamber with little sections on the top level where various Forsaken vendors were hawking their wares.  The entire place was decorated with various death imagery. 

Of course, the entire design also contributed to the fact that this was essentially a sewer system, and the smell confirmed it.  Tzara walked by the bank in the center and tapped her feet quickly down the steps, a pain shoot through my body in warning when I didn't immediately follow her.  Still, why did we come down here?  The smell was seriously going to make me pass out as we got closer to the green slime.  It was also a bit weird that the troll never actually stopped at the bank.  No snowballs or the like.  We were just really close to the green slime. 

The Undercity, besides being the sewer, was actually very impressive.  It actually said a lot about the people and the nation that had built this.  Either they had put a lot into the sewer and sanitation systems, or they had truly been a beautiful nations, once.  Now of course, the upper level of the castle was crumbling, and outside the castle walls it was hard to believe there had been civilization of any sort with all the green and trees.  It also said something about the remnants of the Forsakens' humanity that there were signs they tried to make the sewer look more inviting, with little touches like the drapes hanging on the stone walls. 

We entered to where even more green slime sat stagnant and seemingly alive in a trench.  Little green bubbles formed and popped and released a denser ore stomach turning stink into the air.  I really didn't want to think about what was actually in the green slime.  Perhaps the rotting bodies of the Forsaken still with mind but with bodies too ravaged by time to stay together. 

We had turned a corner, a big fat rat crossing our paths and Tzara, the idiot troll, looking around like she had forgotten why she had gone there in the first place. 

Then the tension was cut like a knife and all hell broke loose.  I hadn't even realized that there had been tension in every muscle of the horde so tightly wound that it's release was like letting loose a spring wound too tight and hard.  Tzara grabbed me around the middle, and I found myself flying backward as blood splattered itself across the stones.  Every horde citizen walking or selling wares seemed to have lost their mind as they charged and brutally tore apart the Kro-kron Guards. 

My back hit the green and the liquid appeared to suck me under.  I took a breath in, but too late.  Liquid entered into my mouth.  At first I was in too much shock to taste the slime.  The thick liquid making my limbs feel heavy and out of my control.  Then the vicious taste scorched my mouth, killing my taste buds.  The slime itself stung every orifice and made my eyes sting even as I kept them closed tight.  It was like when I had been learning to make my poisons and they got under finger, or I didn't clean well enough and got a taste of what I would be dealing to other poor unsuspecting souls. 

Within seconds I had my feet under me, my chest already feeling like it would explode with the need to throw up. My feet scrabbled against the stone, my toes hitting something that squelched and wriggled in the thick liquid.  I reached up, but I hit what felt like a stone wall.  My hands and fingers slipped over a slick barrier, trying to find where I could once again surface.   Finally I found a break swell of gas and pressure that propelled my hand up and broke the surface only briefly before my hand was sucked under again.

The phantom of fear graced my mind as I started to feel that life begin to slowly slip away from me. 

A big hand wrapped around my arm, and with a feeling of unquenched relief, I was pulled and my body finally broke the surface.  I held tight to my rescuer.  Grateful that they were strong enough to carry me, and curled and coughed and vomited all over them.  I was carefully lowered to the ground and shook all over.  I never wanted to be close to that gunk again.  I was definitely paying for my unnatural interest in the undead. 

"You almost done Sweets?" asked the troll close to my ear.  I jumped in surprise, fear making my heart beat hard against my chest.  The fear quickly retreated to be replaced by anger.  I made an abortive move to strangle her, only to be stopped by a wave of pain. "Come on.  We have to get the ink and leave."

"What is going on?  Has the entire Horde gone mad?" I asked.  Bodies of the guards littered the ground and some Forsaken members appeared to be trying to rip the bodies apart.  And the weird part was that they appeared to be succeeding.

"Come all, join us and take back the Horde!" shouted an ethereal voice that shook the entire castle.  Tzara made a sound that almost sounded like a hiss of anger. 

"Let's go," snapped the troll, lifting me to stand on shaky feet. She dragged me, but still I saw that things just didn't seem right.  There appeared to be all sort of adventurers, all looking high level with wicked looking blades while lumbering creatures that looked like cobbled together ogres with ribs sticking from their blue flesh and an extra arm or two sticking from their backs took the place of where the guards were stationed. 

"I want the best parchment you got," snapped Tzara, for some reason almost throwing me onto the table.  The Inscription Trainer looked at Tzara, seemingly bored and relaxed even as other Horde members moved around like fires had been lit under their asses as they ran about and others stood in huddles and gossiped.

She finally turned, her eyes scanning the Lexicon of Power before affixing to a male Forsaken behind her.  He had bright green robes, and hair that appeared to be spiked high on his head.

"Ickabod, it's for you," she drawled, voice rough in her throat.  The Forsaken looked over us both and then with a casual swing of his arms he moved his body, bit by bit until he faced them. 

"What is it?" he demanded, I was surprised at how strong his voice was.  Like he was an actual human.

"We need the best parchment we can get," said Tzara, I pulled a little where her hand was holding me tight.  It felt like the troll was cutting off circulation to my arm, her fingernails digging into my skin.  The Forsaken looked at me then at Tzara, apparently not at all impressed in what he saw.

"I have some Light Parchment," he drawled finally.  Tzara hissed a little, her voice seeming to scratch against her throat.  I half expected her to treat the Forsaken supplier as she had the one from town, but instead her grip tightened and she must have somehow subconsciously called out to powers somehow because of burst of heat left marks on my arm and my arm bone snapped. As I collapsed to one knee, fighting the surge of pain that I should have been able to shake off as nothing at this point. 

The troll turned on her heels abruptly and dragged me, skipping and stumbling on my feet, behind her. 

"Beware.  Follow the Lady and retake the Horde," Ickabod called after me. 

"What is he talking about?" I asked, not really expecting the troll to answer me.

"We need to get out of the way for a while," Tzara said, dragging me along with an angry and quick step. "Shouldn't be too much trouble in the Western Plaguelands."

"You are trying to kill me," I said with an exasperated sigh.  That actually made the troll pause and turn on me.

"No, you're high enough..." then she paused and titled her head.  I had a bad feeling I had just done something very stupid. Her smile turned high and that insane, mischievous lilt entered her expression once again. "Actually, you know, you are completely right.  Instead, let's go to the Eastern Plagueland.  I think that will be much more your speed."

My mouth snapped shut.  I didn't dare say anything else in fear of giving her ideas.  I was going to die enough in the Plaguelands, and I would keep doing so until Tzara took me out.  Dying would not teach me what I needed to know to grow stronger, and the beasts and creatures there would probably kill me too fast for me to learn any tricks.

"Hurry, the Lady goes to reclaim the Horde.  All are needed on the zeppelins," said a Dark Ranger.  Her voice kind and almost childish though her body was more than matured.

"Do I look like my sister?" hissed Tzara, and I found myself moving in front of Tzara, as if shielding her from making a grave mistake and attacking the Dark Ranger.  Tzara didn't glance my way, but neither did she try to push past me and actually attack the Dark Ranger.  The undead creature seemed to take no offense to Tzara's words, and with a quick glance over me, as easily dismissed me.  Within seconds she was on her way, somewhere, her hips swaying in a very confusing fashion.  Mostly confusing because on most I would call it sexy, but on someone already undead, it should have made me want to run to the hills in disgust. 

Tzara watched the Dark Ranger for a couple of seconds before shaking her head in what I assumed was disgust and turning on her heels to leave. I was forced to leave, following her up the stairs, past the bank, and to the elevators.  The bodies of the Kro-kron littered the ground, instead the abominations looking over the bodies one even taking a bite out of an arm it had ripped out. 

"What is happening?" I was able to ask again.  Not sure if Tzara was even sure out what was happening, but feeling like she had to ask.  So many questions were brewing in her mind, but if there were answers, they were not forthcoming.

"Change," said the troll, almost ripping my arm as she pulled me out of the elevator, clearly headed to the exit. "True change, and we are going to go to the where it is likely to not be about."

"What?" I asked, a hiccup in my shoulders as I fought back a laugh. "Are you afraid of being looped?" The idea was so ludicrous.  With everything that the troll had done, how could I even imagine that as a possibility.  But what other reason could there be?

"Looped?" the troll almost seemed thrown by this idea.  She shook her head. "No, don't be ridiculous.  But I have no interest in being drawn into one of the many fights that will again and again determine what will happen to the Horde's future."

I stared at her in confusion.

"You think it's only the Alliance that hates Garrosh?  His actions have crippled and divided us.  I was willing to help to an extent.  To build up the Darkspeare's Revolution, but I have no interest in trying to overtake Orgrimmer.  I don't see how that will end well."

I started a little but realized I shouldn't be so surprised.  Really, the fact the Horde could band together and not fight each other and make revolution impossible.  After all, the Alliance was filled with genuinely good people, but they still had backstabbing and politics to deal with.  The Horde could only work when it was fighting, and even then it looked like they would fight bloodily together. 

"Coward," I finally said.  Tzara glanced my way, but instead of trying to contradict my words, she merely turned away.  I felt my jaw unhinge a little, but I really shouldn't have been so surprised. 

Once we were outside the Ruins of Lordaeron, Tzara summoned an Enchanted Fey Dragon.  The blue scales turned purple as it sat and Tzara walked to it and swung her leg over.  She then glanced at me.  I looked at the beast.  This mount was certainly big, but most mounts, no matter the size, were only able to carry one rider.  The troll seemed to be thinking the same thing, but still, she offered her hand to me.  I took it, and she pulled me onto the creatures back.  The tight band of her armor slipped enough to reveal, on blue skin, a dark mark.  Then I was on the creatures back.  The Fey Dragon only shook itself a little, but at Tzara's urging, quickly took to the air.  I watched as everything fell away beneath us, clinging and wishing that I had some sense. 

 


	5. Above My Pay

I really hated the cowardly, idiotic troll.  We were in the Eastern Plagueland, and while I admit to it was rather impressive, I was stuck with humans looking disdainfully at me while I was dragged past the protected gates and then killed, over and over and over again.  The ground was purple and the rest of the world was orange.  There were giant mushrooms and some of the growths pushing their ways through the ground were breathing.  Most of the time I wasn't.  Everything was drawn to me, I swore that I even saw the infected fawn looking at me like I might make a tasty treat. 

Tzara sat with me at her side.  I had tried to run back to the guards, but the idiotic shaman had measured the distance apparently to a "t" because just as they were coming into sight, I was unable to take a step forward.  And then I was killed again and Tzara had moved my body back to where we had been, and I sat and waited until I as allowed back in my body.  Tie stretched, y soul felt weary and worn, and even though I died every time it happened, as I soul I could only stand to be in my body so long. 

This last time Tzara had cleared the area.  At least she was getting bored.  I slipped into my body, tense and ready to be attacked again as soon as a cannibalistic ghoul or scourge knight appeared, or even before as I was ten levels under the lowest beast and attracted the attention of monstrous and dangerous creatures even when I wasn't trying at all. 

I was also pissed.

A little giggle broke me from my thoughts, and I looked over to see a translucent girl.  Well, a ghost really.  She was staring at me intensely, leaning in and cocking her head to the side before smiling and laughing again. A nearby mushroom let loose a cloud of something putrid.  I glanced at the ghost girl, feeling a little thrown by what was happening.  On one hand. maybe I was still dead or something.  Not really back in my body. 

That would have weird connotation to it, so I suppose the undead to come and correct me was a good thing.

"Her name is Pamela," rattled the voice.  I was standing in seconds, daggers drawn and ready to attack.  The undead woman looked at me in confusing and only smiled at me.  I blushed, because yeah, I was a level thirty and had absolutely no adventurer fighting another traveler.  Not since I started my own journey, and she was level fifty nine. 

Still, an undead right before me, thin and blue with death without eyes, or at least with some sort of belt system covering it.

"And who are you my dear?" she asked.  I made a face, but didn't move as she leaned in and placed a gentle hand on my face.  Is there some sort of Horde rule that they call enemies by endearing nicknames? Also I wonder why her touch is so light, and I notice she pulls back after a second, her face turned as if she too is surprised.

"Can't you read?" asked an irritated Tzara.  She waw staring intently at the book she had been reading for their entire trip here.  Well, it sounded like I was calling her stupid that way.  What I mean is that my dying is completely boring to her so I don't know why we're here.  She brought along the tome of a book that is at least a thousand pages long, maybe two, and has tiny lettering, and yet she is already halfway through it.  Either she was skimming or I've been dying for a lot longer than I thought.

"Meranlie," said the forsaken, I turned back to her and noticed she was smiling kindly at me, her weight on her staff.  I wondered what she was for a moment, then shook my head and adjusted my sight.  I was surprised when she turned out to be a priest.  Not because Foresaken can't be priest, I suppose.  When human that had probably been her role in life, though I wondered when she was going to turn dark like all those shadow priests. 

"Shaarey," I said with a nod of my head.  I gasped and clutched at my head as pain ripped through my skull.  It receded a little, and I opened to my eyes to see the Foresaken leaning away from me, that puzzled expression on her face as she seemed to be looking at her hand.

"Do you have some reason for being here?" asked Tzara, and I jumped and looked behind me to where the troll was standing right at my shoulder.  She was staring at her book, but her expression had morphed into one of clear irritation if not anger, yet she didn't attack the foresaken woman.  I looked back at the undead.  She was relaxed, still resting on her staff.  She was at level 59 which was rather sad next to Tzara's 90, but Tzara made no move to attack like I would have expected her to do to anyone who irritated her.

"I've been watching for a while," said Shaarey, her voice seeming to come from stale breath just beyond realms of life and forced through broken lungs. "You own this girl, yet she is no pet, or every creature would not agro onto her as they have been."

"And why's that any of your business?" Tzara snapped ignoring my pitiful cry of pain when she threw the book on y head.  The Foresaken looked completely bored, still resting on the staff, but there was something calculating in her gaze.  Which, yeah, was a weird thing to say, after all the Foresaken had those belt things across her eyes.  But it was the way her head was titled as she considered the troll.

"You shouldn't hurt those under your care," said Shaarey, her voice a little less friendly.  Which, was weird when I thought about it, because despite it coming from the spirit world and twisted through death to slide and rattle between her teeth, Shaarey really did have a very kindly and almost motherly voice. "She has your mark on her."

"It's even more lovely than a collar," I glanced behind me at Tzara quickly.  What did the troll mean?  I looked to the Foresaken whose head was bent in a way that suggested she was looking almost sadly at my neck.  I felt along it, but found nothing there.  No sign that some collar had appeared after the ridiculous spell the troll had done, which made me wonder what was there.

There was a flash of movement from the side, and before I could brace myself for a another bloody death, the Foresaken stepped in.   The death cultist engaged her instead, the two dead creatures engaging.  And then Tzara joined the fray, but instead of attacking the death cultist who was easily being beaten by Shaarey, the troll focused on her fellow horde member.  Shaarey summoned a shadow fiend and started threw up a quick spell that replenished some of her health and would have engaged Tzara but the troll threw the fight.

The cowardly troll threw the fight!

I didn't even know what to think.  She was level 90.  Level 90.  This Foresaken was only level 59, how could Tzara back down from a dual with a Foresaken so far under her?  Why even engage her and start the fight in the first place. 

Shaarey stared hard at the troll, also looking confused and still in a stance to fight, as she slowly started standing though her gaze turned to one of disgust.

"Oh, you're one of those," she spat, and she finally sounded like a proper undead monster as she stared down the troll.  Maybe I was so fixated on what her eyes were supposed to be seeing and not taking into account the way her body language, the way her hand went to her hip, the sneer on her small grayed lips, and the way her nose wrinkled against the leather straps across her nose.  I wondered what I would see if I removed those straps. Would there be the glow of light that came from undead eyes, or would there be two empty and eternal black holes, or maybe just eye sockets. The Foresaken looked at me, and started to talk, jarring me from my thoughts. "I mean that she doesn't fight other adventurers.  Too scared, too weak to even try.  Can't even beat me and I'm only level 59, so she went for someone 60 levels under her for the instant kill."

"She's a coward," I confirmed, before a flash of pain made me double over and throw up as I clutched my head.  Yelling started, but I was so dizzy from the sudden curst of the worst migraine ever to hear it for a few minutes.

"She's Alliance, why are you trying to defend her?  Did something go wrong during your resurrection and you're still loyal to the Alliance instead of your undead banshee?" snapped the troll.

"Never speak of the Sylvanas in front of me again," yelled the Foresaken.

"I don't want to be talking to you at all," shouted Tzara back.  And I ran at her.  She seemed shocked, her red eyes widening as I barreled into her, but there was even a numbing in my limbs, because I wasn't trying to attack her.  I instead brought her in, throwing my arms around her middle and nuzzling against her hard armor.  I prayed it would work because... well, because I wasn't sure what to make of the situation.

Then I felt big arms wrap under my arms.  I chanced a quick look up, just missing connecting with her eyes.  The troll lifted me up and cuddled me up against her chest.

"She's mine," hissed the troll, and then sort of pushed me toward her in a little jump before cuddling me back. "See, she agrees.  We were just having a little fun.  She's even purring for me."

I glared up at her.  Half for the purring comment.  I was not purring for her, I was just constantly a little congested.  It made me have to be very creative in stealth, but in a way it made me a better rogue for it.  I also wanted to know if the bullshit coming out of the troll's mouth was what she thought the truth was. The troll glanced at me, and I turned so that her quick kiss got my ear instead of my lips.

"I'm not leaving her with you," said the foresaken.  I gasped in pain as a chunk of my health was blasted from me. Tzara didn't even gasp as the holy light struck her head on, just laughed, one hand leaving the back of my head so I was forced to shakily wrap my arms around her neck as the troll fumbled around in her pouches.

"You don't have a choice," Tzara said, not even bothering to acknowledge Shaarey's "slap" to get the troll to engage in a fight again.

Out of the pouch came a hearthstone.  With a wicked smile, the troll clutched hard at the stone and it started to glow.  I could feel the magic of the transportation spell tugging at the center of her chest. Then the troll swore and moved her feet, destroying the spell as she shoved the stone away.  The foresaken started to laugh, it wasn't cruel, maybe a little mocking, but mostly what I heard was relief. 

"What's wrong little troll?" asked the foresaken.  Which was sort of weird to say.  Stupid troll might have been more appropriate.  The foresaken was really small compared to the troll seeing as she had only been human when alive and now was hunched in death.  "Afraid to fight those that can actually defend themselves?  Afraid of ridicule?  Afraid of becoming the butt of every joke so you had to pick on a someone so weak they couldn't possibly beat you?"

Tzara, instead of becoming furious, actually seemed to become amused the more that she heard.  Finally she rolled her eyes and took my hand, leading us both away.  I glanced behind us to where the Foresaken was following us.  I no longer saw the little ghost girl that was supposed to be her companion.  The Foresaken smiled at me, her staff swaying as she walked with a slightly broken gait to keep up with us.

"The Foresaken is following us," I said. stumbling a little as the troll pulled.  I tensed in fear as lightning spilled and gathered onto the troll's hand, but she just threw it to the side and taking on another monstrous dead thing that had instantly aggroed onto me as we made our way, stumbling over the hills and finally par some Argent Sentries who didn't even glance in our direction as the troll pulled me along. 

I swore under my breath.  It wasn't that they didn't help, at this point I didn't expect them to.  Not because they weren't good people, good humans, they had probably once been very high minded and dedicated.  But now they were Guards.  Once that had been a wonderful job.  Something a girl from the orphanage had remembered her parents adventuring for, and after reaching the right level and training for, and then gleefully hugging their daughter and telling her that they now not only protected the king, but would be able to live in one place.  Then the changes started to happen.  First the guards couldn't leave where they worked at all.  Then they wouldn't communicate with you during work outside of stock phrases and in cities giving you directions.  Now.  Now they never slept, never ate, never left their spot unless an enemy came in range. 

They no longer were real people.  Many creatures now were afraid that if they were looped, they would essentially no longer be who they were, think for themselves.  And some basically like guards.  Like the low level foresaken in the starting area for the foresaken who went back and asked for a jaw again and again and again and couldn't be stopped by people trying to get his attention he just said those same stalk phrases again and again and again.

"Where are we going?" I asked Tzara, ripping my gaze away from the guards.  It had sounded like she said we were going back to the Undercity.  The troll just smiled evilly at me, took my hand, and dragged me onto the back of the alliance beast and we were off and flying back to the Undercity.  And since the Foresaken had the ability to hear, she was right behind us.  "If you were trying to lose her, you failed miserably."

"Undercity is not the end goal," said Tzara, wrapping her arms around me and nuzzling into my neck because she was a creep.  "Northrend is."

I felt all the blood rush from my face, leaving a tingling sense of horror through my entire body. 

"I can't go there," I said, fear shaking my entire body.  It was too soon, we were already making our way inside the city and I needed more time to explain to her that this was a bad idea. "They won't let me on the ship, I'm not a high enough level."

"You're mine," said the troll, twirling after we got off the beast and grabbing my chin and holding us close together.  My muscles bunched, they would probably cause me to start to get cramps soon.  Probably would paralyze me if I went much longer against my "master".  But still.  If the Eastern Plaguelands with their stupid mushrooms was bad, then Northrend was going to tear me apart.  "Oh, don't look so worried dear.  It's not like death is perman..."

The troll froze.  Completely still, her embrace becoming bruising and my health started to slowly tick down.  Her gaze however was far away.  Her red eyes glazed over as she stared over into nothing.  I felt my head titled to the side, trying to figure out what she was seeing when the troll grunted and started walking again, her grip changing so she only held my wrist.  We walked away from the zepplins however so I involuntarily let out a rush of air.  Then an Enchanted Fey Dragon appeared from seemingly nowhere and the troll dragged me onto it.  I gasped as she pulled hard on my wrist and onto the creature. 

It seemed like a waste to be dragged along like this.  Where were we going?  Why had Tzara suddenly just stopped and changed her mind like that.  I looked behind me and saw that the undead woman was still following us, slowly falling behind.  She gave me a little wave, and I found myself forcing myself to concentrate on the stats of the world around me.  The undead, Shaarey, was a priest at level 59.  That meant she couldn't fly yet on her own yet?  You didn't have enough power to control a flying beast properly until level 60.

So why didn't Tzara just fly away on her own beast before this?  Did she just like being dramatic?

We entered Brill, and the wind picked up at just that moment and sent the scent of rotten meat hit me full force and I gripped and gagged into the troll's shoulder, half hoping that I would throw up all over her. 

Of course, since I wasn't paying attention, Tzara dismissed her beast and I fell on my ass onto the ground.  I glared up and was surprised when the troll wasn't standing over me.  Then the undead did appear. 

"You alright dear?" asked Shaarey while holding her hand out to help me out.  At first I was tempted to bat the hand away and stand on my own, that's what I probably should have done. Of course, having someone on my side would help, even if she was a undead. 

I took her hand and gave her a strained smile.  She brushed her hands, claws, creepy bony nail fingers through my hair and patted me over.  I stood completely still as the insane undead fussed over me.  Was there a horde member who acted like they were supposed to?  Or did they all play with Alliance members like toys instead of the enemy?

"I wonder what she's reading," said Shaarey, a look of concern on her face as she seemed to stare sightlessly at the troll. "She's been staring at that note for a long time."

I looked over, Tzara was leaning on a mailbox, a letter held close to her nose.  Unfortunately, one of the changes to the world was that you couldn't read other people's mail even when looking over their shoulders.  And then the letter appeared in my mind.  Just for a second, completely superimposed on my eyeballs in a way that had me screaming like I was back in the orphanage and tumbling back into the Foresaken's arms. 

"She's mine," said the troll, gripping my arms and ripping me back into her embrace.  Of course she had to be extra creepy about it and smell my hair and grope at me a little.  But when I glared at her, I saw all her attention was on the troll, so she wasn't actually being a pervert.  Well, no she was, but it wasn't for my benefit, which actually made it worse. 

Then Tzara's grip on my loosened a little.  Not enough  for me to run away, but she was staring at Shaarey oddly, like she could turn her eyes into laser beams and extract something from the Foresaken's head.  Shaarey for her part just titled her head, a smile still lighting her face, but a curious expression on her face.  I started to wonder if I was going mad when the easiest race I'd had the ability to read body language from was the undead.  That had to say something negative about me since body language had always been difficult for me when dealing with humans. 

It also made no sense since the Foresaken were mostly humans brought back to life to serve the banshee queen and thus were shadows of humans and thus should have less ability to broadcast what emotions they had.

"Are you intent on following us?" asked Tzara.

"As well as I can until you let this poor Alliance girl go," said Shaarey and I turned a little hoping the only hope I had didn't see me roll my eyes.  It might be my only hope, but relying on a creature as unnatural as this thing and a member of the Horde to boot really wasn't my idea of fun.

"Right, whatever," said Tzara, rolling her eyes, somehow. "Anyway, then we need to get you at a slightly higher level."

This made both Shaarey and I look at her in confusion at that. 

"Oh?" asked Shaarey.

"We're going to go to the Outlands to save my idiot sister," said Tzara with a sigh.  Her red eyes then flickered side to side and she started to pull me away from the inn and down and out of Brill toward a giant lake.

"The one who worships Sylvanas?" I asked.

"Yup, not even sure how she did it since as far as I know she's still level 16 because she won't go leave this stupid area and that bloody forest," grumbled Tzara. "And somehow some stupid Warlock got a hold of her."

"Why?  Is she a general or important to Sylvanas in some way?" asked Shaarey.

"No, I don't think she even know she really existed," said Tzara.

"Do you have lots of money?" I asked and then yelped when the troll gripped my arm tightly.

"It doesn't matter," spat the troll. "The person they want won't care so we need to go on a rescue mission.  Because she's an idiot and can't do the right thing."

"Like you do the right thing?" I asked and got thrown into the lake.  When I surfaced, I saw that Tzara and Shaarey were yelling at each other. I sighed and stripped down to my underclothes and then just let myself float.  After a while I finally swam my way back to shore where the two Horde members were bent over and were making a plan on how to proceed.  Tzara seemed to be bringing Shaarey along mostly for insurance.  Despite Tzara's stupid high level, Shaarey actually was interested getting a group together since we were supposed to go into a dungeon.  I eventually just started to look for places to fish and nap, because while I would get dragged along, this had nothing to do with me.

 


End file.
